Aftermath
by Scarlett7
Summary: Tag to 14x12 "Prophet and Loss". Sam holds himself together long enough to make it to the Bunker and his room. Until Dean comes to check on him.


It's not a typical exhaustion. It doesn't feel like he's just stayed up way too long or worked too hard or like he's coming down with something. It's like all of that rolled into one and coupled with a crushing feeling of… devastation? Loss? Greif? This he doesn't understand. He wants to feel relief. He _should_ be feeling relief, but the other feelings are so heavy, it's like they've somehow attached themselves to him and he can't get out from under their weight. He cannot seem to recover from how close they came to…

He's barely holding himself together. His heart is racing, his eyes burn and he can't stop shaking. He follows Dean and Cas into the bunker after the long drive home and once inside, he starts his escape plan.

"I'm gonna get some sleep," he says without looking at either of them.

"Good. You need it." Dean slaps his shoulder but then grips his arm before he can walk off. He lowers his voice and adds, "I'll see you in the morning, ok?"

Sam catches his eye briefly and foolishly hopes Dean can't sense how close he is to falling apart. He knows this is like hoping a cat can't see in the dark, but Dean lets go and Sam turns and retreats to his room.

Castiel watches him leave. "Is he all right?"

"No," Dean walks past him, pulls a bottle of whiskey off the shelf and pours two glasses.

Castiel's eyebrows lift in surprise. "No? Shouldn't you-"

Dean hands him one of the glasses. "I will. I'm gonna give him a minute. A very short minute," he says as he takes a sip and sits down at the table.

"I see," Cas sits down across from him. "Dean, I'm… glad that.."

Dean nods. "I know. Me too, Cas."

They drink in silence, Castiel glancing occasionally over his shoulder at the doorway towards Sam's room.

Dean almost laughs when Cas regards him very seriously and says, "I believe it has been almost _three_ minutes..."

"Yeah. I'll go check on him." Dean pours another drink and heads towards the hall. "I'll see you in the morning, Cas."

Castiel nods. "I'll be here if you or Sam need me."

* * *

He's sitting up in his bed, knees pulled into his chest. The door is slightly ajar and Dean doesn't knock, just nudges the door open wide enough to poke his head inside.

"Hey," he says softly, taking a few steps into the room.

Sam keeps his head down and doesn't respond.

Dean inches closer until he's up against the edge of the bed. He sets the glass of whiskey on the night stand. "Brought you something."

Sam casts a very slight sideways glance at the glass and then returns his gaze to his knees.

"I, uh, suppose it would be a pretty stupid question to ask if you're ok?" Dean asks and tilts his head at Sam. He is expecting a snort, an eye roll, a shake of the head… but that isn't what he gets.

Sam's breath hitches and he lets out a wet, choked off sob. He is much closer to the edge than Dean had realized.

"Ok," Dean whispers as he sinks down to the mattress. He grabs Sam's shoulders and pulls him forward, gathering him up in his arms. And Sam latches on to him like he'll die if he lets go.

"Ok, ok, shhh….oh, Sammy…" he whispers, keeping his arms tight around his little brother whose body is now heaving with sobs. He keeps one hand rubbing his back and the other at the base of his neck. "I'm so sorry..."

And he is sorry. So very sorry he's put Sam through all this. Sorry it might still not be over.

Sam tries to say something but can barely catch his breath.

Dean rests his chin on top of Sam's head and forces back his own tears. Sam's crying is ripping his heart out. But he holds on. There isn't much he can say. He can't tell Sam it will be ok, because he isn't sure about that. He isn't about to tell him to settle down, he's earned a total free pass for this breakdown. After a while, he settles on, "I'm here. Ok? I'm right here."And it seems to be enough. The more he repeats it, the more it seems to quiet Sam down. Dean sits there holding on to him even after the heart wrenching sobs have turned into quiet, occasional hiccups and shuddering breaths.

Dean finally shifts his weight a bit, and Sam stiffens, his fingers involuntarily clenching more tightly into Dean's shirt. Dean keeps a reassuring hold on him. "Hey, hey… I'm not going anywhere. Hang on," Dean lifts his feet one at a time, unlaces his boots and toes them off onto the floor. He lets go of Sam for a moment and climbs over him onto the other side of the bed where there's more room for him.

Sam keeps his head down the whole time, not looking at his brother, but keenly following his every move.

"Ok, c'mere," Dean whispers, lifting his arm as he pushes himself up against the head of the bed.

Sam sucks in a breath of air as he swallows back another sob and drags himself over to flop onto Dean's chest with a muffled whimper.

"There you go…" Dean says with a sad smile as his brother unabashedly nuzzles into the soft flannel of his shirt.

Sam swallows a couple times and takes a steadying breath and manages to mumble " 'm sorry..." and tries to wipe his eyes with his face still pressed up against Dean's chest. But he's not really sorry and Dean knows it. He doesn't have enough energy left in him to be sorry, Sam is just done. He's so broken that there are no longer any walls standing between his raw emotion and the world around him. He's physically and emotionally exhausted and he doesn't care. Because this is what you become when you head out on a cross country road trip with your brother and his casket in tow.

Dean leans down, pressing his nose into Sam's hair and shaking his head. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and tightens his grip.

"Don't you dare be sorry, you hear me?" he whispers with a firm yet gentle determination. "Let it out. Let it all out tonight and then go to sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up." He squeezes the back of Sam's neck. "And when you wake up, we're gonna get to work figuring this all out and fixing this mess. Ok?"

And with those words, some of the tension leaves Sam's body. He sighs and nods.

"Ok." Dean says and pulls a blanket up to cover them both. "Go to sleep, Little Brother. I'll be here when you wake up," he tells him again. And he knows Sam will sleep now. Because that's the only thing that Sam really needs to hear.

* * *

_A/N: LOVED this episode. The writers nailed it. It doesn't even need fan fiction extras like this to feel complete, but I'm posting anyway. I can never get enough brother fluff, so hope you enjoy!_


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